High
by Fezzes at 221b
Summary: Sherlock stumbles into 221b at two in the morning, and John finds out a secret.


Sherlock stumbled into 221b at half two in the morning.

"Sherlock?" called Mrs Hudson. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock called back, drink and drugs slurring his speech.

"Is John up there?"

In his armchair in the flat, John jerked awake. A cold mug of tea was on the table next to him.

"Sherlock?" he called.

"Go 'way, John." he muttered, tipping like he was on a ship. He hit and wall, and held on to it.

"Y-you're not high are you?" John jumped to his feet, his bones cracking.

"G' 'way." Sherlock managed to make out before he slumped into John's arms.

"Goddamnit, Sherlock." he inspected the passed-out detective and wondered if he should wake him and drag him for a bath, or let him sleep.

'Eh, what the hell?' John thought. 'He can freaking wake up and have a bath.'

"Sherlock? Sherlock?" John shook his friend. His eyes rolled and he swatted a hand at the doctor.

John heaved him up and pulled him into his own room. Sherlock's was too far away, plus this one had the bathroom closer, in case Sherlock woke up and needed him.

He ran a bath and left it running, and went back to Sherlock.

He was sitting up, John's quilt around him and was blinking blearily.

John went to hoist him up to take him to the bathroom but Sherlock shrugged him off.

"I don't need to be babied, John."

"You're high, Sherlock."

"Your observational skills are improving John. Congratulations."

"Sherlock, you need a bath. You are stinking my room up and it'll sober you up."

"What if I don't want to be sober? John?" Sherlock yelled, his eyes were red and full of what looked like tears. "What if there's a reason I'm always high?"

John tried picking him up again.

"Is there a reason?" he asked, as he cradled Sherlock's thin frame to his chest.

For the moment, he didn't seem to be struggling.

"Yes!" Sherlock screamed suddenly, tearing his face away from John's chest and rolling out of John's arms.

"There is! There is a reason and its horrible! You'll hate me!"

"What is it?" John bent down next to the high, drunk, sobbing detective and rubbed his back.

Damn, Sherlock was higher than he thought.

Sherlock leaped to his feet and towered over John, tears gone as his eyes burnt. In that second, he looked seven feet tall. And evil.

For a second, it looked like he wasn't going to answer the he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!" he roared.

John rocked back. Shit. Shit. Really?

"Really?" he asked, dumbly. Sherlock slumped and swayed, John immediately caught him and sat him on his bed.

Sherlock is high. He does not mean it.

Sherlock is high. Do not kiss him.

Sherlock= High.

Sherlock curled in on himself and hugged his knees.

"A little." he whimpered.

There was a sudden chilling cackle from the doorway. Mrs Hudson stood there... on Sherlock's phone?

"You owe me a tenner!" she laughed into the speaker.

In the silence where she realized John and Sherlock had noticed her, when the person on the other side spoke:

"They're together? YES! The whole MET office owes me ten pounds each. Sherlock saying it first! I knew it!"

"Greg?" asked John.

"Gertrude?" asked Sherlock.

"I'll hang up now."

Three hours later, after Mrs Hudson had hung up, and Sherlock had had a bath, John awoke again to a knock on his bedroom. John currently had his face buried in a pillow that Sherlock had been sleeping on earlier.

In an amazing display of self-restraint, John had not kissed the life out of Sherlock.

Which, to be honest, kind of went against his career.

"Eh?" mumbled John, half-turning. Sherlock walked in and sat on the bed. John tried not think about how close he was.

"You know what I said earlier?" Sherlock asked.

Suddenly, John was a lot more awake.

"Yeah?" Sherlock was sober now, right?

"Do like me back?" Oh, God this sounds like twelve-year-old's sleepover.

Wait, WAIT, WHOA, BACK? BACK? BACK?

BACK? If Sherlock said 'Back' that meant he did properly like John.

Fuck. Shit. ********. ** *******. *******.***.**.****.** ****.

"Yes." John blurted before his brain could stop him.

John sat up and looked at the taller man on eth bed next to him.

Sherlock leant over and buried his head in John's neck.

Slowly, he lifted it and kissed John gently on the lips.

He trailed kisses down John's jaw and whispered in his ear.

"I wasn't actually high."


End file.
